Second in the Alphabet
by mickeylover303
Summary: Sometimes, irony began with a B. NickGreg.


"No." He couldn't believe he was being cornered in his own bedroom. Well, it was _their_ bedroom, but it was the principle of the matter. Nick was standing over him, waving it in his face, but Greg didn't want to put it in his mouth.

And it was dripping all over the sheets.

"Look at it. It's leaking and you're getting it all over the place."

"Don't worry about that, just try it, Greg," Nick cooed, making that annoying babyish voice that made Greg want to smack him in his face. "I promise it's going to taste sweet."

"I said _no_." Greg didn't know how many times he'd already repeated himself but he wasn't going to do it again. The smell was almost nauseating. If he wouldn't try it when it was soft, what made Nick think he would try it when it was hard?

"Put it in your mouth."

"No…_Nicky_!" Greg backed away as Nick moved closer, rolling to the other side bed. But he was temporarily suspended in the sheets, getting tangled and stumbling off the bed. A loud thump and a hurt ankle later, Greg lifted himself off the floor, scrambling to get away from Nick as he hobbled out the room. "Nicky, I'm not joking with you," he said as he peered over his shoulder, seeing Nick coming behind him, fast on his heels.

Greg could hear the music in his mind, not quite the scary, steadily increasing beat of the Jaws theme, but more like some corny, knock-off, Sci-Fi, B horror movie where the nerd dies first. And of course, Nick is the nice guy who nobody suspects but ends up killing everybody else because they never figure out that it's always the nice guy.

If only he didn't have the handicap of a recently sprained ankle, he might have made it to the front door.

But in his desperation and haste, he just had to go in the kitchen, the same kitchen that was a one way – same exit, same entrance – ticket to his doom, something one of the characters in the same corny, knock-off, Sci-Fi, B horror flick would do.

Passing through the doorway, Greg ignored the irony of comparing his situation to a B movie for a second time. He had more important things to think about…like what his B movie situation lacked…since his situation seemed to be unfolding like one.

The only thing that would be missing was his limp ankle getting caught by the leg of a stray chair that just happened to positioned conveniently out from beneath the table, except it wasn't missing and Greg found himself tripping over that same leg of the same stray chair.

He was soon falling, falling in that dramatic way he swore he'd never fall, his arms moving wildly as he was lucky enough to reach the counter with his hands. Using it to support his weight, he heaved himself up; grateful his hands took the place of his head. However, the small victory was short lived as he turned around to see the face of his demise.

Apparently, through the commotion with the chair and the counter, Greg hadn't heard Nick's heavy steps behind him nor had he heard the loud laughter that seemed to make the whole situation that much worse.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked, lips upturned and slightly quivering, probably trying to contain his laughter.

"Get away from me with that stick." Greg leaned against the counter, trying not to look too obvious as he reached down to open a cabinet. But his less than subtle efforts were futile as his hands grabbed at empty space, the edge of the counter digging into his back, and Nick was still stalking toward him.

It was always the one you least expected that you have to look out for.

"I don't know why you're running away from me…"

Oh, but Greg knew that he knew. And Greg knew that Nick knew that Greg knew. But Greg couldn't believe that Nick would go this far, taunting Greg as he continued to come closer, moving _it_ back and forth while Greg felt himself nearly go cross-eyed at the constant wiggling motion.

He felt his back sliding against the counter, against the cabinet as he descended to the floor, Nick kneeling over his huddled frame as Greg tightened his lips. He may be trapped between a cabinet door and an insistent body, but he wasn't going to let Nick put _it_ in his mouth.

Nick was not yet on his knees, still standing over Greg as he tried to tempt him once more. "Come on, Greg. It took a while to harden. The least you can do is try it."

"Nicky, I'm serious. Get it away from-" Greg narrowed his eyes when Nick effectively cut off his objections. It was nasty. It was disgusting. It was _vile_.

And it was in his mouth.

"It's homemade." Nick wiggled his eyebrows, his expression more than simply playful.

Greg painfully swallowed the juice that gathered in his mouth. It actually wasn't that bad and it kind of tasted like milk…but he still didn't like it. He pushed Nick's hand away, which was still trying to direct the repulsiveness into his mouth. "And here I thought I had bad jokes."

Nick gave a lavish smile. "It's just a frozen smoothie on a stick."

"And normal people would call that a popsicle, but anyway…I don't like bananas." Greg bit his lip, trying not to stick his tongue out as his face became twisted. But he stuck it out anyway, because he didn't even like the artificial stuff. Nick had his dislikes and Greg had his, and it wouldn't hurt Nick in the least to respect that he didn't like bananas.

It was a double standard, but it stood in Greg's favour.

"I know." Nick put the tip of the popsicle on Greg's tongue, laughing as Greg contorted his expression once more. "I know."

* * *

_SID: Don't own._

_Older story, but it was silly, so I thought: why not?_


End file.
